


Promptfills

by noos



Series: Sunny Drabbles [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: I can't explain any of this, I really can't, M/M, promptfill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And yeah, this is so not what Mario was expecting to hear as he rounded the corner to his kitchen that morning. Absolutely not. So he stops in his tracks and backs away slowly before either of the two figures in the kitchen notices him. And yes, he is tacky enough to eavesdrop because today is the day he finds out his nightmare is real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote 3 shorts pieces based on some tumblr prompts and decided to post them here. The work has no title because I'm lazy okay.
> 
> The first one is just crack okay. So much crack.

"He cannot find out, Ann. Please. You have to make sure he doesn't find out. He will leave me."  
  
And yeah, this is so not what Mario was expecting to hear as he rounded the corner to his kitchen that morning. Absolutely not. So he stops in his tracks and backs away slowly before either of the two figures in the kitchen notices him. And yes, he is tacky enough to eavesdrop because today is the day he finds out his nightmare is real. That Marco has found someone better than him.  
  
"Marco, stop overreacting. It's just the one time, it's not like you go around on a regular basis doing that to him."  
  
Okay. One time. He can work with that.  
  
"Overreacting? Do you not know him at all? This is probably the only thing he has no tolerance for."  
  
Yeah, Marco's definitely cheating. Fuck. Marco's cheating on him. It's really happening.  
  
"What? Marco, stop being ridiculous, how badly can he react to this?"  
  
_What the fuck, Ann? How badly can I react to my boyfriend cheating on me? Really?_  
  
"Are you really asking me that, Ann? And you're supposed to be his best friend? Remember what happened to Gerard the last time he did that?"  
  
At least someone has enough sense in them to know how bad this is. No, wait. He's the cheater in the first place, where's the sense in that? And who the fuck's Gerard? Is that his name? Gerard? Who would choose a Gerard over a Mario? Seriously?  
  
"Who's Gerard?"  
  
Thank you, Ann.  
  
"Exactly."  
  
It's funny, because he always thought Marco would cheat on him with Pierre, that fluffy cloud of hyperactivity. He did not take into account the Gerard possibility.  
  
"Marco, it's just a pretzel-"  
  
Gerard. What kind of- pretzels? What? Come to think about it, he's kind of hungry.  
  
"It's never just a pretzel! Not with Mario."  
  
What?  
  
"Okay, well, if you know he's so serious about it, why would you do it in the first place?"  
  
He cheated on him with a pretzel? What? That's even worse!  
  
"Because I was hungry! And okay, I like pretzels too! And, how was I supposed to know he'd wake up at 3am to eat one. Who does that??"  
  
Oh. _Oh._ Okay. Marco's not cheating. But he did eat his last pretzel. That's. He's not sure which is worse.  
  
"Your boyfriend."  
  
It always does funny things to his stomach when someone calls him Marco's boyfriend. Or maybe that's just his stomach grumbling because he really wants pretzels right now.  
  
"I knooow. I thought I'd wake up early and go get him some before he notices we're out, but I didn't take into account his 3 am pretzel cravings. That's such a rookie mistake, how could I be that stupid?"  
  
Very stupid, Marco. But he was gonna get up super early to get him pretzels. That's. Why he loves him, probably?  
  
"And it was even nicer of you to blame it on a 5-year-old."  
  
_Nico._ He totally blamed it on Nico, Mario completely forgot about that. He's not only a cheater, but a liar too.  
  
"Ugh, Nico was here yesterday and he always gets a free pass when it comes to pretzels. He had to take one for the team."  
  
That's because Nico's the only one who understands the importance of pretzels.  
  
"It's okay, Marco. We're all human. We all do stupid things. Even you."  
  
It is not okay! But yes, Marco is stupid.  
  
"Yes, but Mario can't know. He can't know I'm the one who ate his last pretzel."  
  
Guess what, bitch? Mario knows.  
  
"Well, you got him some, right?"  
  
What?  
  
"Yeah, and they're freshly baked too. I actually had to stop myself from stealing another one. Shoved three croissants down my throat instead."  
  
Okay, that's actually really cute. He got him new pretzels. That he wants to eat. No way he's going to let that happen again-  
  
"Marco, step away from the pretzels. I'll pretend I don't know it was you who finished off the last batch, but so help me if you touch these, I am not doing that thing you like in bed for at least a year!"

 


	2. things you said when you thought i was asleep

This isn't how it's supposed to be. They're not supposed to be doing this, still. After all this time, after all they've been through and all those times Marco swore it was over, it finally was. It was over and he'd moved on. Or tried to. Point is, he survived without Mario. Not that there was ever any real possibility he wouldn't. But he sometimes believed he wouldn't survive without him. But they ended their whatevership and he survived. And he spent days hurting and weeks pining and months surviving. Without Mario. Because Mario had left him.

_He left Dortmund. He never left you. It was you who ended it._

It doesn't matter who left who now, because they were over and had been over for so many years, Marco's not even sure there was ever a time when they weren't. And yet. All those weeks he spent pushing him away, all those years he spent resisting every instinct of his to call Mario have amounted to absolutely nothing. Because he's here and lying on Marco's left side, lips puckered in sleep and swollen with kisses, arm sprawled across Marco's chest, fingers lost in ginger locks like they belong there, and it hurts how right this feels, how much sense all of this makes right now.

"Please don't ever let me survive without you ever again."

It's funny how Mario's grasp on Marco tightens suddenly, how he scoots closer and buries his face in Marco's shoulder, something wet against his skin that makes Marco's stomach tighten uncomfortably, a pair of soft lips grazing his collarbone like the whisper of a promise. It's funny how after all this time, he still trusts that promise.


	3. things you said after you kissed me

"Fucking hell, Mario, of all the things you could've eaten tonight, it had to be garlic?"

Mario groans when Marco pulls away for the second time in less than a minute, lips still puckered as he tries to hang on to his boyfriend's mouth even as he pushes him away.

"Marco, come ooon," Mario whines, tugging on Marco's shorts in an effort to bring him closer again. "You're ruining the moment here."

" _I'm_ ruining the moment?" Marco scoffs, standing - sitting? - his ground and refusing to scoot any closer. "It feels like I'm kissing an onion!"

"Marco, you just flew over all the way from Dortmund so we can spend the night together, what's the point of that if you keep trying to push me away?" Mario tries to reasons, but he still sounds way too whiney, he knows that. It's not like he can help it, really. He's tired and so fucking horny and Marco's sitting half-naked across from him. "And I didn't have any onion."

"Technically, garlic is part of the onion family," Marco counters, raising his eyebrows. "And I can't help it if I'm not overly excited at the prospect of kissing what feels like a very well-marinated piece of chicken."

"I didn't know you were such an onion expert," Mario snorts, pulling away and pouting phenomenally. "And since you're going to be such a dick about it, this very well-marinated chicken is going to bed," he huffs, getting up and nearly tripping on the carpet.

He can hear Marco snort a laugh behind him, but he turns his back on him, hoping to hide his embarrassed blush, scrambling away to his bedroom. He's already brushed his teeth twice, and really, the smell is not that bad, Marco is just being a drama queen. And if that's how he's going to be about it, then Mario might as well get some very much needed rest.

He realizes just how impossible that is about fifteen minutes after he gets into bed. He's been turning fitfully in his mattress, his swollen cock begging to be stroked, sensitive and painfully aching for Marco, and even the thought of Kevin in a feathery peacock thong can't seem to solve his problem. He finally gives up and walks over to the bathroom, disposing quickly of his shorts and boxers before hopping in the shower, easing his hand around himself as the scalding water rains on him. He hates that Marco's the only thing on his mind as he starts to slowly move his hand, is too preoccupied with his thoughts to hear Marco join him in the shower. It isn't until he feels Marco's fingers covering his, his other hand grasping Mario's hip possessively that he relaxes. That only lasts for about a moment because as soon as Mario folds himself against Marco’s chest, he feels Marco hard and just as needy against him, something he’s missed more than he can understand in their time apart.

"Why don't you let me take care of that for you," Marco whispers, biting down on his shoulder and Mario whimpers before he can stop himself.

"I thought you were too disgusted," Mario tries for a snarky tone, but Marco's fingers are rubbing him in all the right spots and he can't find it in himself to be anything but pliant under his hands right now.

"Meh," Marco shrugs, turning Mario's neck to kiss him properly. "I found some leftover garlic chicken on the stove. I can see your point now."


	4. things you said that made me feel like shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got another prompt today, so I thought I'd post it in a separate chapter. I'll probably fix the rest so that each one is in a different chapter too.

“Why the fuck do you have to bring him up every single time we’re having an argument?”  
  
He hates this. He hates this so fucking much. He hasn’t seen Marco properly in over two months, hasn’t been with him properly in even longer, and this is not how he wanted to spend this weekend. And yes, he’s fully aware he started the fight, but he’s let it slide too many times, and somehow he just can’t bottle it up anymore.  
  
“Because he is the reason we always argue in the first place,” Mario barks at his boyfriend, getting up rather harshly and walking towards the open window. He turns his gaze to look at the streets of his city, the roads buzzing with lights and people, so alive and so stark in contrast to the vast darkness of the sky.  
  
“Which makes this even more ridiculous,” Marco mutters angrily, rolling his eyes and Mario can feel his eyes taking him in, burning holes into him despite being so cold, colder than he’s ever seen them. “I thought we were past your jealous phase.”  
  
And yeah, Mario loves Marco. He’s loved him for a long time and is very much convinced he’ll never stop, but in that moment right there, he really doesn’t like him.  
  
“Don’t,” he warns, lowering his voice to match Marco’s and keeping his gaze firmly on the city outside. “Don’t turn this into something it isn’t. Don’t patronise me and ridicule my feelings. Don’t mistake my concern for you and our relationship for jealously.” He takes a deep breath before turning to look at Marco, a shiver running through him when their eyes meet. He can almost see Marco raging a war inside his mind, can almost feel his indecision. “He’s with you every time I call. He lives in your house, rent-free. You fucking invested your money in his shitty business. You even went on vacation with him, Marco. It was supposed to be our fucking time, we both had some time off, and you bailed.”  
  
There’s no describing the pain he feels right now. His palms hurt. His head hurts. His lungs fucking ache. He can’t swallow past the lump in his throat, he can’t even blink without hurting. This is not how it’s all supposed to be.  
  
“We both agreed it was the best thing to do,” Marco argues but there’s no bite to it, his eyes leaving Mario’s to stare at the wall, and he sounds so lifeless, so unlike the vibrant human being he is that Mario has to physically stop himself from going over to shake some sense into him. “You and I can’t go on vacations together. Not so frequently. People will suspect something.”  
  
“But it’s okay for people to think there’s something going on between the two of you,” Mario says, laughing with very little humour. He can already feel himself starting to retreat, so tired and beat all of a sudden. The silence in the room is stifling and Marco’s avoiding his gaze like his life depends on it. “Where does that leave us, then? If we can’t live together, vacation together, basically we can’t be seen together outside of national duty, where does that leave us? How can we make this work if the occasional hookup is all it’s worth?”  
  
“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you walked out on your team and left me behind,” Marco whispers, and of course he’d choose this moment to find Mario’s eyes again. No matter how many days and weeks and months pass, no matter how many new memories they make and miles they go, it always comes back to this.  
  
“Yeah,” Mario laughs again, a treacherous tear escaping his lid and sliding down his cheek. “I’m sorry I chose to make the best of my career.”  
  
Marco will never forgive him for leaving. And Mario will never regret his decision to leave. They’re at a standstill.  
  
“How’s that working out for you now?” Marco whispers, a glint of something in his eyes, and Mario knows Marco, knows he doesn’t think before he talks when he’s hurt, knows he gives worse than he gets when he’s feeling threatened. But this was the line they never crossed. This was the limit Marco always set for himself. Because no matter how hard things got, no matter how lonely and bitter Marco felt, he always supported Mario. Always made him feel better, always fought against all those articles that claimed Mario was done, always made him believe he was far from it. Until today. “How’s that incredible career of yours treating you?”  
  
There are no words to describe what Mario feels in that moment. No words to explain the relief he feels knowing the one person who’s always stood by him, who’s always defended him against everything, has finally turned his back on him. No words to describe the pain he feels knowing he was always right, that Marco would one day turn on him too, that he was right not to trust anyone with his heart. No way to describe the physical pain he feels, worse than a thousand football injuries and a billion losses. Because he did trust Marco with his heart, and Marco just shattered it into a million pieces in the breath of a second.  
  
He can see it on Marco’s face, how he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, how he wants to take them back, how he wants to go back in time a few seconds to fix this. He was never one to weigh his words before he spoke them, not when his integrity was at stake.  
  
And yeah, Mario knows he’s about to do the one thing that started this in the first place, the one thing that ruined them and got them here, but he can’t look at Marco anymore, can’t stand the stifling heat in the room anymore, can’t even breathe, and he doesn’t even think about it when he crosses the room in two strides and runs out the door in nothing but a pair of shorts and some socks.  
  
It’s half-past midnight and there are a billion people on the street, but Mario can’t bring himself to stay in the building, can’t find enough air to fill his lungs, can only hope no one will notice him crouched down on a sidewalk two blocks away from his home, trying to remember a time before Marco.  
  
His bed’s empty when he comes home in the morning, eyes numb and heart bruised and feet so sore from hours of walking. But Marco’s there, sleeping on the floor by the window, back against the wall and Mario’s blanket wrapped so tight around his slight frame. And when he opens his eyes a second later like he somehow feels Mario’s presence, the regret in them knocks Mario sideways.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Marco whispers hoarsely, his bruised eyes burning holes into Mario much like earlier that night, only the cold is gone, replaced by an overwhelming warmth and a very unwelcome sadness. “I didn’t mean any of it. I’m sorry.”  
  
Mario can’t really bring himself to say anything, is not sure he can feel anything at all as he walks over to Marco, lowering himself silently on the wall next to him and stealing some of the blanket. He hates how good it feels to be so close to Marco, how the parts of him that are touching the boy feel healed somehow.  
  
Something’s broken between them and Mario knows Marco knows it. But when Marco’s fingers find his under the blanket, when Marco’s arms wraps themselves around Mario, locking them together and moving them until they’re lying on Mario’s floor by his window, he can breathe a little easier, can somehow swallow against the ever-present lump in his throat.  
  
“I’m sorry.”


End file.
